


The First Murders Always are the Most Haunting

by Kimium



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mild mention of canon typical violence, Mild mention of stabbings, Minor NDRV3 spoiler, Minor hint of Naegiri, One Shot, Post DR1, Snippet scenes, Snippets that are Post Series in General, Sort of character study into Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 11:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimium/pseuds/Kimium
Summary: One Shot. Post DR1. Post Series in General."Makoto touched the edge of the shower. His fingers barely grazed where the cool, almost translucent tile and glass met. Heat ghosted over the glass in the oval shape of his finger tips, like breath against iced over glass in winter, before fading away. An impression was left, almost invisible unless the light caught the angle, of a finger print. The only evidence that someone had been in the bathroom."Snippet scenes of Makoto's thoughts regarding the first murders of each respective game. (Plus one that didn't happen.)





	The First Murders Always are the Most Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> In about three years of writing Danganronpa fics, I have rarely written strictly as Makoto. He's actually very fun to write and I am very happy to write as him. This fic came about as a character study for Makoto. I hope you like it. I also added in some Naegiri because I do enjoy them as a pairing. 
> 
> As always feel free to leave kudos and comments as those always motivate me and make my day. Also, if you want to check out my tumblr or message me there, my tumblr is right [here](http://www.kimium.tumblr.com).

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Makoto touched the edge of the shower. His fingers barely grazed where the cool, almost translucent tile and glass met. Heat ghosted over the glass in the oval shape of his finger tips, like breath against iced over glass in winter, before fading away. An impression was left, almost invisible unless the light caught the angle, of a finger print. The only evidence that someone had been in the bathroom.

Evidence that he’d been in the bathroom.

Makoto bunched up the edge of his sweater. The frayed edges along the cuff were soft and fluffy, fibers catching on the surface of the glass ineffectively wiping his finger print. All the sleeve did was smear the fingerprint, like a hastily cleaned crime scene.

The finger print morphed into blood. Makoto jumped back, shoulders arching upwards with a tense motion, a full-bodied shiver ripping through his body. The hair on his arms stood, akin to a cat threatened. Makoto breathed deeply through his nose and shut his eyes. The harsh white light of the bathroom burned the back of his eyelids uncomfortably.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Opening his eyes, Makoto took another step backwards and allowed his arm to limply fall to his side. It was just a finger print on the glass. Only Kirigiri would notice. Not that anyone else would be in the room besides the two of them. Surveying the room, Makoto took in the rest: the polished sinks, the mirrors illuminated by the light above, the toilet, and the shower.

Traditionally hotels had both a shower and a tub. Clearly this hotel was cutting corners. Makoto couldn’t blame them. Times were tough. A shower was favouring a Western style and showers were perfectly acceptable places to wash up.

They were also perfectly acceptable places to be stabbed.

Makoto tasted the blood and the gold pressed to his lips. Makoto could hear the snapping and cracking of bone and the ripping of clothes and flesh. Pain seared behind Makoto’s eyes and metal pushed into his stomach. Cool tile pressed against his back and legs.

Makoto melted into Maizono.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

_“You didn’t save me, Naegi.”_

“No, I didn’t.” Makoto whispered to the Ultimate Idol bouncing in his brain. “I didn’t save you, but you saved me.”

Taking another step backwards, Makoto hastily turned around to leave the bathroom, hand reaching the door knob. Exhaling sharply, as though knives were stuck in his throat and Makoto was attempting to dislodge them, Makoto turned the light off and closed the bathroom door until it was left ajar. Turning the knob a few times, Makoto peeled his fingers off, one at a time. His arm once again fell limply to his side. Staring at the white door, Makoto took in the perfect condition of the door: smooth, the knob functioning, the hinges in place.

No signs of struggle. No signs of life. Just a sterile, neutral room, untouched by the outside world.

A moment of reprieve.

~

No, this wasn’t happening.

Not again.

Makoto stood up and distantly heard the chair he had been sitting on crash to the ground. His world narrowed and focused onto itself, folding like a wet paper crane, dreams and hopes crushed. The world spun on a single axis; the vortex centered on the image of the screen in front of him. Everything had been on track and then the virus and their control lost but hope for recontrol had filled Makoto. They would fix this. The Neo World Program would work and they’d pull everyone out.

His hopes were bleeding on the floor, smashed and stabbed, just like Byakuya.

The blood was dripping through the floor’s cracks. Makoto had to squeeze his eyes shut and desperately beg his brain to erase the image of the Imposter Byakuya lying on the floor dead.

Stabbed in an unusual location. Makoto’s stomach twisted violently. Just like… just like…

“Makoto.” Kirigiri’s voice smoothly filtered into his ears.

He jolted brutally, almost ripping his mind from his body in a single stroke of motion. Makoto’s heart dully thudding in his chest, splitting and aching with each pass of blood.

“Makoto.” Kirigiri placed a hand on his arm. “Breathe.”

Breathe? Makoto forced his chest to move, up and down. The dizzy spell of air hitting his lungs and circulating in his blood stream ached. A fuzzy, grainy film covered Makoto’s vision for the longest moment. The grey specks didn’t fade until Makoto took another harsh breath.

“Feeling better?” Kirigiri asked, passing Makoto a water bottle.

“Not really.” Makoto honestly told her, taking the water bottle. “However, I cannot sit around idle. We’ll fix this.”

“You’re right.” Kirigiri turned to the computer screens. “Death in this virtual world may not be the same as reality. However, before we jump to assumptions and conclusions let’s attempt to regain access to the Program.”

Makoto uncapped the water bottle and took a long sip. He could still see Byakuya dead filtering through his brain and the pieces of the murder filtering in his brain. In a way, the only (small) comfort he could take was the fact they could see everything. (Not that watching everyone being manipulated and being powerless to stop them was ideal either.) No need to solve the murders, just the task of saving the people inside.

“Right. Together. We got this.” Makoto capped the water bottle, ignoring the twisting in his stomach.

~

Not again.

This wasn’t happening.

The chandelier swung and the blood dripped down the metal and the gems. Makoto wanted to scream, wanted to release the image in his mind. He couldn’t.

Yukizome was dead, impaled on a chandelier, swinging on a beautiful light fixture. A light fixture that was turned off, dull, and dead. Just like her. The chain to the chandelier strained and then collapsed, falling to the table. A crash filled the room as the chandelier broke into a thousand pieces, the gems and the metal breaking around her, like shattered wings of an angel.

Yet another victim stabbed in an unusual place.

Yet another brutal death all in the sake of hope and despair.

No, not for hope and despair. This was only an act of barbarism and brutality, meant to shock them and spring them into action. Doubt would settle in, paranoia, then the anger and fear.

Makoto knew the feeling all too well. It slunk into his body like an unwelcome visitor, attempting to take control from the inside out. Makoto’s skin felt itchy, uncomfortable, too tight for his body and his mind.

Breathe. Makoto had to keep a levelled head. This was what Enoshima always wanted. She wanted the disruption, the breaking of trust. That’s how everything started. Makoto wasn’t going to play her game a second time.

All he could do was move forward.

Even with the deaths lingering in the back of his mind, their dead mouths upturning into a mocking smile.

~

Sometimes his brain reworked reality. Sometimes, it was the apartment building, Komaru shivering and screaming for help before the Monokuma bot silenced her forever, keeping her trapped in her cell for all eternity. Sometimes, it was in the hallways or by the entrance, freedom fleetingly within reach before snuffed out with bright, glimmering claws, dripping blood.

However, more often than not, it was the diner.

Makoto twirled his pen idly and stared out at Towa City. The road was completely repaved and lights were working. Main streets had a majority of the buildings intact and rubble was slowly being removed. Buildings began to display signs and civilization began to reappear with the grace of a newborn deer. Makoto could name what the buildings were as he passed by. Some were the emergency services such as hospitals, fire station, and police headquarters. Then there were some services that were in dire need such as car repairs, electric companies, and gas stations. Finally, there were some businesses, which made Towa City appear more put together with each passing day. Businesses implied economy and economy implied some stability.

Whenever Makoto spotted a new business up and running when he visited Towa City, he smiled to himself. He savoured the sight of families walking through the rebuilt streets and city of Towa. Makoto kept the image in his brain when the days dragged on and all he wanted to do was flop on the bed and give up.

So, when he was sent to Towa City for a short trip, Makoto eagerly took the job. The ride over was short and the sight of the free, rebuilt bridge made the journey towards the future brighten and shine. Streets and sidewalks bustled with life and Makoto peered out the window, watching the blur of colour pass his eyes. Building after building passed, all the details lost on him. When the car stopped, Makoto took the moment to glance outward. Beyond some businesses were high rise buildings, all of them apartments. Makoto stared.

The buildings were new and functional. People lived in them. People went in and out. They were not a prison. Not a place of confinement. No one was trapped inside for months. No one was held prisoner. No one had to fight for their life.

No one was going to have to pray and hope they weren’t stabbed on the streets.

Komaru was fine. He lived in a reality where his sister had escaped and with Touko survived Towa City. He lived in a reality where his sister was still alive. Not stabbed and left for dead in a weird location. She wasn’t stabbed in an apartment building that was a prison and she wasn’t stabbed in a café.

Komaru was fine.

Makoto shut his eyes and when he opened them again the buildings were gone, the car moving. The thoughts drifted slightly into the back of his mind, lingering for the briefest of seconds, before tucking themselves away.

Never fully gone but never fully realized.

~

_The dream had an abandoned school, with cracks in the walls and the floor. Grass and plants grew out, like some sort of post apocalyptic world. Students were trapped and there were more Monokumas than Makoto liked to see. They were also strangely coloured and had… personalities._

_Weird._

_Turmoil and fear, panic and apprehension. Makoto knew the taste, the bitter and sour one that never left and only numbed the senses the longer they continued._

_Time blurred in strange ways, as all dreams were prone to do. Details and scenes flashed past Makoto, none of them sticking._

_Then, he was in the library, a boy on the floor, and a shotput ball rolling away, covered in blood. No doubt the boy’s skull had caved in from the force. Makoto stared down at the body and tilted his head. Disassociation from the scene hit Makoto like a fishhook pulling him away. Everything slowly drained away, like water washing away paint, leaving only a clean canvas. Voices drifted, fading and filtering into the void of sleep as dreams were tugged away by the power of waking._

~

When Makoto woke up, comfortably holding Kirigiri against his chest, their blankets warmly pooled around them, the first thought that bubbled in his mind nearly made him laugh aloud. Kirigiri shifted and turned slightly.

_“At least, that body wasn’t stabbed in a strange location.”_

“Something wrong?” She asked, her voice warm and light with sleep.

“Sorry.” Makoto exhaled. It was just a dream. “I had a strange dream.”

Kirigiri hummed. Makoto tightened his grip on her and closed his eyes, burying his nose into the blankets and Kirigiri’s hair. Opening his mouth, Makoto tried to tell her what his dream had been about.

Nothing.

He sighed and opened his eyes. The details had faded, blurring into further and further, forever dangling in the realm of sleep.

“Sorry. I can’t remember.”

“That’s fine. If you remember later and wish to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Kyoko.” Makoto shut his eyes. “Let’s sleep.”

“Good night.”

Holding her tighter, Makoto curled into the blankets and mattress, sleep catching him once again and tugging him under, blissful and dreamless.

**Author's Note:**

> Maizono: Easily for me one of the most interesting relationships with Naegi in the games that I think is overlooked a lot. I really enjoyed writing this opening scene.
> 
> Watching SDR2 characters: Hinted through the entire game that Naegi and co were only able to powerlessly try to regain control as Enoshima's AI wrecked havoc in the Neo World Program.
> 
> Byakuya: I refer to the Imposter as "Byakuya" and DR1 Byakuya as "Togami"
> 
> Yukizome's death: Not lying, her death has stuck in my mind by simply being so visually different.
> 
> NDRV3 scene: I thought it would be fun to add it in as a dream.
> 
> Naegiri: I really enjoy this ship and I don't write it a lot. It was fun to add in.


End file.
